Zed Day, Logandale & Logandale WoodsOn reflection, perhaps I am not quite done scavenging from this house. I get hold of the former curtain from the window I smashed, along with the rock I used to smash it. A few seconds of careful tying and voila! A simple sling I can wear across my shoulder to carry things. It will do for now.
Using said rock I smash apart a couple of the metal cabinets in the basement and bring the metal up to the surface, where I can work in the light filtering through the spot where the curtains used to be. I can still hear moaning outside, so I keep out of sight of the window itself.
It takes about five minutes and some fiddling, but I manage to tie my rock securely enough with string to a piece of the curtain rail (which I break down to a usable size) to serve as a functional hammer. With the hammer, I am able to beat one of the chunks of steel from the cabinets into a thin, flattened metal spike. A little duct tape on the end, and I have a working screwdriver. A second piece I hammered long, but with a working edge to serve as a blade. I wrap the string from the curtains around the end, tie it up and have a crude knife.
Now I can get to the real business. The twenty minutes or so it takes to disassemble one of the beds in the house with my shiny new hammer and screwdriver brings me to mid-day, but leaves me with ample materials to work with. I cut one of the bed boards into a cudgel. I smash an empty bookshelf for splinters and pick the largest of them to serve as a simple needle to go with the copious thread available. Two hours or more pass as I stitch together bedsheets into a thicker quilt, something to serve as cover in the eventual night. I stitch together a scarf, and wrap some rags around my hands in place of gloves. I have been eating bread found in the house up until now, but I am getting thirstier and thirstier as time goes by. Water is becoming a pressing need.
The rampaging hordes appear to have thinned some, enough at least for me to move. I am getting tired, and perhaps I might be able to shelter here in this house overnight, but I need to get water before that can happen. My throat is already parched.
The taps aren't working, naturally, but mercifully the toilet has been flushed. I find a big jar, able to store some three litres, and fill it with toilet water. Needless to say, I want to boil this before I drink it.
Right then. Time to make it to the woods.
Ah, crap. Zombie that looks like an American football player, zombie dog, God knows what else. Let's see if this cudgel works out, then. I drop my sling to the floor and ready myself.
The dog struggles climbing through the window, and that's all the gap I need. I bring the cudgel down swiftly and repeatedly on its head until the creature's skull pops - only then does it stop moving. The hench zombie comes next, scrambling through the window hole. I again use the balanced nature of the cudgel to my advantage, striking several weak but stunning shots against the creature's joints. I am able to keep up enough of a flurry of blows that he never has time enough to recover and actually land any of the blows that I am sure would kill me outright. I am eventually able to snap his neck with a blow to the jaw, and he falls.
The hench zombie has full length cargo pants in my size, and since I'm already wearing stolen clothing I do not scruple to take them, disgusting as it may be. He also has a steel hammer tucked into one of his pockets, which I happily take to replace my rock mallet.
I make a break for the forest. A zombie, twisted and overly tall with a hole where its mouth once was, comes for me and throws back its head as it approaches, let out a blood-curdling scream. Fantastic, tell the whole neighbourhood, why don't you? I crack its head open with my cudgel and peg it towards the treeline.
I make it to the trees, finding only a single zombie following me - a six year old girl in a ruined pink dress. As she claws her way towards me through the trees I feel sick from more than the 'flu. A single stroke to the neck fells her, but I can't stop seeing the child, rather than the monster.
Free from pursuit, I continue into the woods.